


Vitamin M

by LateStarter58



Series: Scenes with Martha and Tom [7]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Tom is woken by unexpected noises from downstairs...





	Vitamin M

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to...

The sound of someone moving about in the kitchen woke him in an unwelcome way from a very pleasant dream: he’d been on a warm beach somewhere, sleepy, sand-dusted and nicely weary from swimming and sex, Martha stretched out beside him in the shade of a large parasol. At least, that was what he had assumed. His eyes were closed, even in the reverie, but he knew it was her, and anyway, who else would it be? As he woke, he wondered fleetingly where Audrey had been - in the dream, that is - but then he dismissed the thought. His now fully-conscious mind knew his daughter was at nursery this morning, and Martha would be working in the _Cube_ , as she called it... _so who was it making the noise downstairs?_

Cautiously, Tom slipped into last night’s boxer briefs, still on the floor by his side of the bed, grabbed his bathrobe and padded quietly towards the landing. He was reasonably confident that the security system would prevent intruders, but it was Shiv’s day off, so who the hell was it rattling the pots and pans down there?

“No need to creep about, Thomas, it is me, your ever-loving!” Martha’s unmistakable voice met his ears as he reached the top of the stairs. Having fastened his dressing-gown, he descended rapidly and appeared in the frame of the kitchen doorway, one eyebrow raised.

“What, not to put too fine a point on it, my darling, the bloody hell are you doing here?” Martha turned her head to look at him disdainfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be sweating over a hot laptop on Primrose Hill?”

Shaking her head sadly, the love of his life continued stirring the pan on the hob and then took a step to the side to crack an egg into a ramekin. “Honestly, you take an hour out of your schedule to be romantic, cook a tasty breakfast for your lover and what do you get? The bleedin’ Spanish Inquisition!”

Not fooled for a moment, Tom looked around the kitchen, trying to spot any clues as to her real motive. The run at the _Pinter_ had been going for a few weeks now, and with the exception of their delicious, lazy Sunday brunches together, Martha rarely stuck around for breakfast with him because she was in the midst of a challenging adaptation. He usually rose too late, and most mornings she was long gone by the time he was up and about. All that, not to mention she was unable to sleep in thanks to her current ‘delicate condition’.

The little kitchen table was laid for one, and as he glanced at it, she placed a full mug of coffee at his place. So, shrugging, he sat down to await whatever she had in store. Life with beautiful, clever and sarcastic Martha East was always something of an adventure, and he loved every minute of it. She never allowed him to become complacent, was always pushing and testing him in a good way, and he did the same for her; together they made each other better. He took a deep breath and looked at her; from this lower angle, he could admire the curve of her belly, now showing just enough to make his heart sing a little every time he saw it. _Our son… our little boy…_ He smiled involuntarily.

“What?”

“Oh, you know… you, him,” he gestured towards her bump, “us.”

Martha pulled a face. “Yes, well, the little bastard was doing the fandango all night… no, actually, I think it might have been that god-awful dance you did in _Cymbeline._ ”

“Oh.” He looked up sadly. “Sorry.” He was just able to smother the grin that was fighting for dominance.

“Not your fault, Eton… although I might feel differently if he keeps it up. Ask me again in a day or two. Right...” She tipped the contents of the larger of the two pans she’d been juggling onto a plate, then slid the egg she’d just cooked on top and placed it in front of him with a barely concealed smirk.

Tom burst out laughing. In an unashamed and pretty unhealthy pastiche of the ad he’d recently done to be shown in China, she had cooked up leftover roast potatoes, bacon and sausage, and to top it off she had used Audrey’s Peppa Pig cookie-cutter to shape the egg. “Go on, get your dinner-grinders round that.” She wiped her hands and turned to leave. “I have to go now, darling - I’m going to be busy for the rest of the day, but when you get back from the theatre later, if I’m not unconscious, I can promise you a bigdose of Vitamin M…”


End file.
